


Just Two Boys

by a_mind_at_work (Madame_Marauder)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Elams is only vaguely mentioned, Everyone Is Gay, He and TJeffs must be soulmates, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, It gets kinda deep, Jeffmads is the focus here, Laf throws wild parties, M/M, Madison is a sad bean, Madison is also a reckless and self-destructive bean, sorry folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 05:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11029446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Marauder/pseuds/a_mind_at_work
Summary: Two Southern boys meet at a party in New York. It goes about as well as you would hope.





	Just Two Boys

      The screeching music being blasted from the shitty speakers plugged into Laf’s iPhone echoes in his ears. Warm bodies weave rather smoothly around him, considering just how inebriated they all are. And speaking of inebriation-

      “Jeffs, you're a dick,” says the shorter boy who swans up to him, flashing a smirk and running his hand through his long hair. Hamilton’s nails are painted, probably Lafayette’s work: all are a shimmering black, except for the middle fingers, which are adorned in stripes of pink, purple, and blue.

       There's an overwhelmed looking boy behind him, one Jefferson recognizes as the shy but intelligent kid in their law classes. “As are you, Hamilton,” he responds. “At least I accept it.”

       The two of them have reached an unspoken agreement at Laf’s parties, and the rules occasionally apply at other events, too; no opinions, no fights, no taunts that can be taken too seriously. Last time they broke the rules, they were both hospitalized for a week, and Professor Washington yelled at them both. So here they are.

       Hamilton laughs, a full throw-back-your-head-totally-drunk-off-his-ass laugh, and pulls the shy kid forward. “I admit that I'm occasionally a massive asshole- (“You think?” yells Angelica from across the room-) but I'm too drunk to argue my point right now. James, this is Thomas. I think you two will get along just fine,” he says, then slips back into the corner he came from, slinging an arm around each of his partners and kissing them each in turn.

       James stares after him, and Jefferson notices when he turns back that his eyes are the most remarkable shade of brown- and no, Thomas, let's not go there right now, you're here to have fun.

       “James,” says James, and holds out a hand to shake.

       “Thomas,” replies Thomas, and shakes.

       James tilts his head and raises one eyebrow, and god he's so attractive when he does that. “You sound like you're from South of here,” he remarks, and you can hear the capital in ‘South.’

       “As do you,” Thomas shoots back.

       James blinks slowly, thoughtfully, and despite the dark lighting- it still is a fucking college house, no matter how large- Thomas can tell he's not used to interacting like this. He opens his mouth, then closes it, as if he's sober enough to think twice about his words. Unlike someone else he could mention- see the fashion student with his tongue halfway down Lafayette’s throat, who seemed to be returning the favor.

       “Want a smoke?” James settles on finally, and Thomas is surprised to realize that they're right by the window, and there's a cigarette dangling between James’s lips.

       It's his turn to dazedly blink. “I thought you had lung problems.”

       James snorts, lighter casting long shadows against his dark skin. “I do. Gonna die from them eventually, might as well enjoy what I can while I can, right? Say, have you ever heard Hamilton talk about hell? Sober, that is?”

        Thomas shakes his head as James takes a drag from his cig. “Can't say that I have.”

         “Well, one night we were working on a project together. Some homophobe- Lee or Seabury or someone, can't remember- and starts complaining about seeing him and Laurens kiss the other night. Hamilton says something, and Seabury- yeah, pretty sure it was Seabury- says that he's gonna go to hell. Hamilton just says that if he's going to hell anyway, might as well live it up now, right?” The words come tumbling out along with a cloud of smoke as James exhales. “How sad is it that I'm basing my life off something a fellow college student said, huh?”

        He tries not to agree, he really does, but Thomas can't help but nod. Perhaps Hamilton does get things right, once in a blue moon.

        James taps his cigarette, and the ash spirals out the window. “Really, we're not that different, he and I. Trying to make our mark before we go. Only difference is, he's not single and I've got a deadline. Age 60 or sooner, they say. 55 if I keep smoking. But what's five years, really. Not much time to make or break a legacy.”

         Thomas is reminded of a line from a song, though it's a song he's quite sure he's never heard. Legacy. What is a legacy? The singer sounds oddly like Hamilton.

         Before he knows it, James is rubbing out his cigarette, and the curtain shifts, and Thomas face is in full view. He watches the other boy's eyes widen as he becomes more than just a voice and vague details. “Shit, you're Thomas Jefferson, aren't you?”

       “That's me,” Thomas replies weakly. He's not sure what’ll happen next- good, bad, or otherwise.

        James grins. “Wait ‘til I tell Dolley about this! ‘Sad Asthmatic Gay meets Local Hero Thousands of Miles Away!’ I can see the headline now- mind you, that's probably about what it'd be, too.”

        The best Thomas can come up with is an elegant raised eyebrow and a not-so-elegant, “Huh?”

         “Did you not know?” James asks incredulously. “Back home you're somewhat of a gay superhero figure. My old school's secret underground GSA might as well be your fanclub. You're out, you're attending a fairly liberal school, and you're from Virginia- practically impossible, in my town.”

        He blinks. “Oh. Well. I, uh, I'm not actually sure how to respond to that. Um. Thanks, I guess?”

         James laughs. “Yeah, well, it's weird, ya know. Meeting someone that's been just an example to strive towards. Get out, make something of yourself, make a difference- ha, I really do sound like Hamilton while drunk, don't I?”

         Thomas shakes his head, coming to a split-second decision. “Not really- you're much cuter than Hamilton.” 


End file.
